Don't Let me Drown
by suicidalunicorn97
Summary: Castiel is human, and struggles to find a way to cope. Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal thoughts. Slight spoilers for Season 9.
1. Chapter 1

**Trigger warning for graphic description of self harm.**

* * *

 _Useless._

Castiel has been called a lot of things over the centuries, but this word seemed to sting the most. Perhaps because it was true. He was human now. Without his grace he was simply a "baby in a trenchcoat", as Dean had once said.

In his own opinion, he was more helpful than an infant, but still helpless on many levels. Sam and Dean had to teach him how to be human.

It wasn't all bad; he could taste things now. Food was more than just a combination of molecules. And he could _feel_ things.

Emotions were proving to be the most intense thing he experienced as a human. He didn't just feel anger, he felt rage. He didn't just feel loyalty, he felt love.

He didn't just feel useless, he felt completely und utterly worthless. Self conscious in his own body. It was truly _his_ now; it was more than a vessel. Jimmy Novak was in Heaven.

All the emotions were overwhelming. They could be good, but they could also be very, very bad.

In the eons that he had been alive, Castiel had never cried before. But the night he watched his brothers and sisters fall, and his own grace torn from him...it was devastation that he had never known. He truly knew the meaning of the word now.

And he had cried. No one saw, of course. But the sobs had wracked his body until he was physically ill.

The human body was so fragile. He was used to wounds disappearing almost instantly. The first time he was injured on a hunt, he was shocked. It _hurt._ It didn't heal. Dean bandaged him up, told him to be more careful, and that was that. It had taken days to heal completely, and even then Castiel was left with a scar.

It was fascinating, really. He had felt pain before, but like everything else about being human, it was magnified. He discovered that the physical sensation was so intense that it overcame even the most unpleasant thoughts and memories.

And so began his obsession with pain.

On nights when he found himself drowning in guilt and frustration, he found relief in the form of dragging a blade across his skin. He loved watching the blood, _his_ blood, rising to the surface in crimson beads. There was something pure about it, seeing the red against white. Almost as if his negative energy was draining away. The deeper he cut, the better he felt. If he lost enough blood, he achieved a sort of high; a dizzy, lightheaded bliss.

The pain...the pain was glorious. It pushed the memories from his troubled mind. It chased away the darkness.

And he could breathe again.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the night after a hunt. This particular case had involved taking down a Greek God. It should have been simple enough; stab the creature through the heart with a wooden stake soaked in the blood of a lamb.

But Castiel had made a mistake by underestimating the God's strength. When he was an angel, he could have vaporized it with a single touch. Now he had to keep reminding himself that he was human, and not invincible. He shoved the God against a wall and reached for the stake. Unfortunately, one arm wasn't enough to hold the bastard in place. It broke loose and flew at Sam, managing to slice his arm open before Cas could launch himself at the creature and finish the job.

Sam insisted he was fine, and that it wasn't Castiel's fault, but the guilt was still there. Cas felt even more useless upon realizing that he couldn't heal Sam. It was a superficial wound, but no doubt still painful. He was supposed to protect the Winchesters, and he had failed.

So here he sat, cutting open his own arm. He had caused Sam pain; so he needed to cause himself pain. In the back of his mind he knew that his logic was flawed, but he didn't care. It restored balance in a way.

He was startled by a knock at the door. "Hey, Cas, Dean made burgers. You want one?"

"Sure," He called out, hurrying to clean up the bloody mess. He emerged from the bathroom minutes later, making his way to the kitchen. Sam and Dean were at the table, eating and laughing. He noticed Sam's bandaged arm, and observed with some relief that the younger Winchester didn't seem to be in pain.

"Hello," He greeted them. "How is your arm, Sam?"

"It's fine." Sam smiled reassuringly.

"Are you sure? I really am sorry-"

"Dude, it's fine. He's good." Dean rolled his eyes. "We've had worse."

"Still..."

"Shut up and eat, your burger is getting cold."

Cas tried to push the remorse from his mind, scratching at the cuts under his sleeve. He had already completed his penance. He need not feel guilty anymore.

After they finished eating, Sam filled the sink with hot, soapy water and proceeded to wash the dishes.

"Let me help," Cas offered, rolling up the sleeves of his trenchcoat. It was the least he could do.

"Thanks, Cas-WOAH, what the hell happened to you?"

Cas tilted his head in confusion before realizing that Sam was staring at his arms. Most of the cuts were scars, but there were a few fresh ones which were bandaged, including the one he had just made.

"Oh, this? It's nothing. I guess it is a bit hard to look at, my apologies." He rolled his sleeves back down, face burning with embarrassment. His body was scarred and ugly. "I can still dry the dishes if you'd like."

"No, forget about the dishes..." Sam was already drying his hands off and reaching for Castiel's sleeves. "Let me look at these, did the God do this to you?"

"No, I did them to myself." Cas said, matter-of-factly.

"You...you what?"

"I cut myself." Cas was surprised by Sam's reaction. Why was he upset?

"On purpose?" Sam's hazel eyes were wide and filled with concern.

"Well, yes."

"You can't do that."

"Why not?" Castiel asked, pulling his arms away from Sam. He was confused.

"You just-you can't!"

"I don't understand."

"I'm having a hard time understanding too. Why the hell would you do this to yourself?"

"It depends. Sometimes it's to punish myself. But most of the time it's because it helps me."

"Jesus, Cas...you don't need to punish yourself, haven't you been through enough? And how does this help? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yes, it does hurt. But that's the point. Pain is so interesting. When I cut myself, I don't even think about everything else that troubles me. It's an unusual phenomenon."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You have to stop."

"Why?"

"You're gonna kill yourself!"

Cas blinked. "No...If I was doing this with the intention of dying, I would be making vertical cuts along my Ulnar artery. These are all horizontal. See?" He pulled his sleeve up slightly to show Sam.

The younger Winchester swallowed hard, feeling sick. "What if you cut too deep?"

"It's extremely hard to die from this method of self-mutilation, no matter how deep I cut. I could always call you or Dean for help."

"That's not the point. Sit." He gestured to the table. "Don't move. I'm getting Dean."

"Why..?"

Sam left without answering, leaving Cas alone and confused. Sam's extreme reaction was unexpected to say the least. Why was he going to tell Dean? It would only upset him as well.

Cas sighed. He really was bad at being human.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was in the bunker's library, flipping through some old books about angels. There had to be a way to get Cas his grace back…the poor guy had been moping around for weeks. He was clearly miserable.

He looked up when he heard Sam's heavy footsteps approaching.

"Dean!"

"Over here!" He called out. Sam sounded out of breath. "Where's the fire?"

"You need to talk to Cas." His brother was visibly upset.

"Woah, what's the matter?"

"He's cutting himself."

"I'm sorry, he's doing what?"

"Cutting himself. On purpose."

Dean felt uneasy. "What for? Is he making Sigils? This place is protected enough without-"

"No, Dean. You're not listening! Castiel is slicing his goddamn wrists open. He's doing worse than we thought. It's really bad."

Dean felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He shut the book he'd been reading and stood. "Where is he?"

He followed Sam to the kitchen, where Cas was sitting at the table fidgeting with his sleeves uncomfortably. He risked a glance at Dean, quickly averting his gaze as if he expected him to start yelling.

The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach only increased. Cas looked so ashamed. Dean was angry, but it wasn't at his friend. It was at Metatron, for stealing Castiel's grace and royally fucking up his angel.

 _His angel?_ Where did that thought come from?

"Show me." Dean said quietly, sitting next to Cas.

"I don't think that's wise-"

"Cas, it's okay." Dean reached for his sleeve, gently pulling it back to expose Castiel's wrist.

The ex-angel anxiously watched, waiting for Dean to explode, to tell him what an idiot he was…

"Oh, Cas…" There were dozens of cuts traversing the length of Castiel's arm. Dean had only pulled the sleeve up a few inches, but it was obvious that there were even more wounds he couldn't see.

"I'm sorry," Cas jerked his arm away from the hunter, and tugged his sleeve back down. "I didn't realize this wasn't appropriate behavior. I will try to stop." He wished Sam and Dean would stop looking at him like that. Why did they seem so sad? Dean looked especially heartbroken. Despite his promise to quit, he wanted to cut now more than ever. He had disappointed them yet again.

"It's…it's not that it's 'inappropriate behavior, it's just…" Dean struggled to find the words to explain. "Cas, you've gotta see how messed up this is. You're hurting yourself!"

"I know. I'm sorry, like I said, I didn't know it was a problem."

"Look, we're worried about you. I'm not mad, we're not mad."

"I let you down."

Those words cut through Dean like a knife. "No, Cas…you didn't let us down. It's not like that! Not at all…" How could he make him understand? "Christ, here goes the chick flick moment." Dean muttered. "We care about you. Okay, Cas? I care about you. I just want you to be happy, and it's obvious that you're not. You're hurting real bad, and I'm worried about you."

"I'm sorry," Cas couldn't look Dean in the eyes. "I will try to stop."

"That's great, but it doesn't change the fact that you still feel like shit."

"I don't understand…what do you want me to do?" Cas didn't say this in a rebellious tone, he simply looked up at Dean with pleading in his cloudy blue eyes…eyes that had once been a brilliant Cerulean, flashing with fire and life.

Again, Dean tried to find the right words. "It's not about the…the cutting." God, he could barely say it out loud. "It's about what the cutting means. It's about getting out of your head, which means your head is a bad place to be. And that's the problem."

"How-How do I change that?"

"I don't know. But we're here to help you figure it out."


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuck!" Dean shouted as he punched a wall in the bunker's garage.

Sam stood close by, watching. "Are you done?" He asked flatly as Dean cradled his bruised fist.

"How are you so calm? Castiel is basically killing himself!"

"Keep it down, he'll hear you."

Dean sighed. Sam was right. It was the only reason he'd been able to keep calm as Cas showed him all those cuts...The angel was hurting, and he didn't want to make it worse by showing how upset he was. How _angry._ He wanted to kill Metatron. Well, maybe not kill. Death was too good for the bastard. He wanted the son of a bitch to _hurt._

"What are we gonna do, Sammy?"

"Maybe we could start by taking away all his sharp objects?"

"Good idea."

* * *

Castiel sat on his bed, reading a book. _His_ bed. It still felt odd to call it that, but Sam and Dean had made a home for him in the bunker. He even had his own room. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

"Cas?" It was Dean.

"Come in," He called out reluctantly. After what had happened earlier, he felt awkward around the brothers. He couldn't stand seeing the pity and concern in their eyes. He just wanted to be alone.

"Hey, buddy." Dean sat on the edge of his bed. "How you feeling?"

"Fine." Castiel squinted. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Dean shook his head. "Nevermind. Hey, I'm gonna have to ask for your angel blade. And any other knives or various sharp things you got in here."

"No." Cas felt his anxiety spike. He needed his angel blade. He could live without all the other things, but he needed that to hold onto...the only thing he had left from when he was an angel.

"Cas, come on..."

Castiel got up and started gathering up his knives and razor blades. He put them in a box and handed them to Dean. "I'm keeping my angel blade." He stated, a hint of his old angelic authority entering his voice.

Dean nodded, understanding his attachment to it. He took the box of sharp objects, feeling sick as he pictures the razor blades slicing through Cas's skin. "Thanks."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, The brothers were reluctant to leave Cas alone. It got to the point where he finally confronted them about it.

"I'm not fragile." He told them. "I'm not going to break. I'm not going to kill myself, and I already told you I'd stop harming myself. You don't need to babysit me." He snapped with annoyance. It was true. Now that he knew 'cutting' wasn't an appropriate way to deal with his feelings, he hadn't done it since they had found out. He was proud of himself; it was harder than he thought it would be.

"Okay, okay...don't get your panties in a wad." Dean mumbled.

"I don't wear panties." Cas said with confusion, which caused Sam and Dean to grin. Although he didn't understand their amusement, it was good to see them smile again.

* * *

 _One week later_

Cas was rummaging through the fridge, looking for food. The need to constantly nourish his body was annoying. "Dean, we're out of bread." He noted. He had grown fond of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Dean came up behind him. "Damn, we're running low on beer too. I'd better make a run to the grocery store. You wanna come with me?"

Cas shook his head. Some days were worse than others, and the past few days had been bad. He didn't feel like going out.

He didn't want to tell Dean, but the urge to harm himself was growing hard to ignore. Sam was on a hunt about an hour away. It sounded like a simple salt-and-burn, so he went by himself. Cas knew Dean stayed behind to watch him, but he tried not to let it bother him. He knew they were just worried.

"Okay, will you be alright by yourself for a little while?" Dean tried to hide his hesitation in leaving Cas behind.

"Yes, I'll watch the Netflix. Go."

* * *

Dean had barely been gone for an hour when the thoughts started getting bad again. Cas was alone for the first time in a month. He missed the blade. He missed the relief it brought. It was getting hard to breathe...

* * *

Luckily Dean had been able to find everything he needed in under an hour. He was on his way home when his cell phone rang. He got nervous when he looked at the caller ID and realized it was Cas.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Dean," Castiel's voice was just above a whisper.

"Cas, you okay?"

"No."

Dean felt his heart sinking, and he sped up. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

"I need help..."

"Hold on, Cas. You're stronger than this, okay? I'm almost there, just hold on..."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean rushed into the bunker, yelling Castiel's name before the door even shut all the way behind him. There was no reply, which only made him more uneasy. He hurried to Cas's room and glanced around. It was empty, but he froze when he heard a soft noise coming from the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar...

Airing on the side of caution, Dean drew his gun. With one hand he pushed the door the rest of the way open.

"Oh, Cas..."

The former angel didn't even look up. He was seated cross-legged on the floor, leaning up against the wall. His arms were streaked with red, and he was still holding a hunting knife to the inside of his wrist.

Dean let his gun fall to the ground.

"Cas, put it down."

Of all the horrible shit Dean had seen over the years, this was somehow one of the worst. He felt sick, and he had to swallow hard to keep his breakfast from coming up.

"I just need a little more." Cas muttered feverishly. His eyes were fixed on the cold steel pressing against his vein.

"Cas, if you cut there, you could die. Please just put the knife down." Dean begged, inching closer towards him.

"Why?"

"Come on, buddy. We've talked about this..."

Dean finally got close enough to snatch the blade out of his friend's hand. He tossed it out of Castiel's reach. Dean released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

To Dean's relief, none of the cuts were particularly deep; although there were a lot of them. Cas was mostly silent while Dean washed and disinfected the cuts, only wincing slightly at the sting. There were far too many to cover in band aids, and Cas refused to let him bandage them.

"Dammit, Cas. Let me take care of you for once!"

"I don't want them bandaged."

"Why?"

"I need to be able to feel them brushing against my sleeves."

Dean gave a frustrated sigh. "Is this some sort of weird-ass pain kink?"

Cas looked confused. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Nevermind." Dean rubbed his temples. "You were doing so good, Cas...what happened?"

"I...I couldn't breathe." Cas mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Do you ever feel...I mean, these days I can barely even..." Cas was having trouble putting it into words. "It helps. That's all you need to know."

Dean sat next to him on the bed. "We need to find something else, because this isn't healthy."

"I'll be fine."

"Like hell! Dammit, what is so bad about living with me and Sam that you feel like you've gotta slice yourself open to breathe?" Dean's voice rose.

"It's not that," Cas desperately tried to find the words. "It's this whole...being human thing...you wouldn't understand."

Dean snorted. "What it's like to be human? I think I understand it pretty damn well."

"No, Dean. What it's like to be human after being an all-powerful celestial existence. Having it ripped from you so suddenly...with no warning. You've been human all your life. You know how. You've used your humanity to do great things, things that _angels_ couldn't even do. But I'm like an infant...I've had to adjust to being weak and fragile and...and useless."

"You're not useless." Dean's voice softened.

"I truly wish I believed that."


End file.
